The Write Way

Monday, June 4, 2012

The alien has always heard of the forbidden planet, the one that sings. The beings there are incredibly powerful, and could wipe anyone out with a thought. Were they to escape their planet, the universe would be plunged into chaos, darkness and enslavement. Nightmares swirled through his mind as a child, enormous creatures would break his body, suck out the juices and devour his very soul, the demons of the Blue Planet were monstrosities!

He had a dream, though, one in which a demon appeared to him and gave him a plant whose stem was green, and it had delicate white leaves at the top that pulled back from a yellow center. The demon spoke to him. "This is a symbol of love on our planet." Dumbfounded, he took the flower. There was nothing threatening about the creature except its size, but even that did not seem very frightful. It didn't even have pointed teeth.

For many years he couldn't shake the dream, and began to question the dogma of his society. The more he dug in to old records, the more he realized they had been deceived, and the beings of the Blue Planet were not demons at all. The secret records he uncovers suggests they are even the perfect beings, the image of the universe manifest. As he discovers these things he finds himself in the midst of intrigue and deceptions. When his government realizes he has learned some hidden truths, they label him a traitor and he finds himself catapulted into an underground movement to reveal the truth and expose their government's involvment in the Demon Planet. To do this, he and likeminded individuals must travel to the Blue Planet and learn the truth for themselves.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

When I was a child, I spent many hours alone in the woods stalking deer, pheasants, squirrels, quail, and other animals with a camera, sometimes with only my memory to enjoy the sights. On these journeys I would find wild fruits, nuts, berries, roots, mushrooms and other edible plants. Occasionally I would stalk frogs with a 22, a friend of ours made great frog leg fritters. Sometimes my older brothers and I would go fishing and bring back bass, pike, salmon and perch for our consumption. These experiences were the most cherished of my childhood, being one with nature, in the outdoors. As I grew older, the passion for the outdoors did not wane, but blossomed into the wonder of life, the appreciation for habitats and wildlife. I took endless hikes with cameras, or guns, hunting, stalking for the perfect picture, or the fresh meat from an animal that has lived wild and free. It was a spiritual and wholesome experience to hunt animals without taint of chemical hormones or abuse of body or spirit. Always the hunt was with respect and a quick nearly instant kill, unlike the slow deaths most animals experience in nature.

It is a kindness for an animal in the wild to have a quick death, for those who don't believe this, they know nothing of death in nature. Wheather by disease, accidents, age or predators, death in the wild is never quick or easy. It was an honor and a priviledge to be a part of the natural cycle, to be a kinder link in the natural order. An honor I still revere to this day. This has always been what it means to hunt for me.

Not everyone who hunts is out for trophies! It so angers me to have all hunters classified as wanton killers without care for the animals they hunt or the land that they hunt on! If it was that simple, it wouldn't be called "hunting" it would be called "killing". Hunting is as much about learning everything about the animal you hunt as it is about finding the appropriate animal for your hunting purpose. In order to find the right animal, each hunter examines the reason they hunt. Especially trophy hunters need to pay attention to tracks, scat, scrapes, trails, and spend endless hours watching each animal to determine the one they want moreso than those who hunt for food. They must learn the habitat of their intended prey, where they feed, where they drink, their migration patterns, what their flight patterns are when startled. Each hunter learns these things, spends hours a day studying them, tracking them, enjoying being outdoors and one with nature. It is the natural order of things, and a spiritual awakening to the love of nature and the laws of survival. It is a confirmation of humanity's place in the world, and I encourage everyone to at least make the attempt whether you prefer to hunt with a gun or a camera. The experience and knowledge gained is invaluable. Those who criticize are least likely to have been face to face with a noble stag, admiring its beauty and grace, almost brought to tears by its magnificence. They have never felt the spirit of the animal, the wildness within, the respect and love of nature, the gratitude that such a magnificient animal lived at all. I pity them as they sit in their artificial world, eating food gathered at their grocery store without ever having soiled their hands, unknowing what life really means.

Some do not know that hunters are the number one source of money used for wildlife and habitat conservation! The monies spent on license fees, tags and registries even after the cut the government takes far outweigh any contributions from any organization, and are put to direct use by the US Fish and Wildlife and the Department of Natural Resources! You know where your money is being spent when you buy a hunting or fishing license. When you donate to a wildlife charity, you would be surprised how little of your money actually goes towards conservation of wildlife or habitat! Not only do the monies spent on license fees help preserve natural habitats and species, many hunters and fishermen buy and preserve lands, donate money and time to conservation efforts, and donate to help feed the hungry with the fruit of their labor.

No one I know of that hunts legally hunts simply for trophies. The meat is always used whether it goes to feed the hungry (hunters for the hungry programs), or is put on their own dinner table. Most hunters revere their prey as much as they revere nature and the outdoors.

Friday, September 17, 2010

“I looked away for only a second!” The tremor in a voice that had been firm throughout the millennia sent chills down his spine. “Just as quickly, they vanished. Our children were not the only ones.”

“Yes, Astaria. My own kind has suffered such losses. It preys upon the young and the weak; those whose existence has not been long in this world.” He felt the ages weighing down on him heavily and for a fraction of a second his claws became transparent. “We are losing what little magic is left here. Soon even the eldest will be but a memory and we will all merely exist in the realm of spirits.”

“But why? What is happening? What can we do to stop it?”

“It would be desperate times that would bring the eldest of the unicorns to me.” For a moment he savored the thought of drinking her blood and rending her flesh. A shiver told him she knew full well what he longed for, but she hoped her plea would take precedence over his hunger.

“I do have a hunch, but need to discover the truth of it. Think, Astaria, what has changed over the last two hundred years?” He needed her, needed all the Old Ones that were left if his hunch was right.

“Humans have multiplied and cut down many forests!” Her thinking was slightly flawed.

“We have lost forests to fiery mountains, to winters that lasted an age, to flooding and yet never have our powers waned or our existence been threatened.” The unicorn’s eyes narrowed and she shook her mane as she listened to him.

“But it does have something to do with humanity, does it not?” A golden hoof pawed the ground.

“It does, but not in the way you think. In fact, humans strengthen us when they believe, but it is deeper than that. Humans have captured magic, they hold it hostage.” It was a concept he was having a hard time believing, but it was the only explanation.

“How? And why? Why would they do that?”

“I am not sure yet, and I do not believe they are aware of what they do.”

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Some odd sounds woke me after Mom guardian finished cleaning our home. It was the rattle of metal, and I jumped up to see her fencing off half our space. Then she brought in another white fluffy bed and placed it in the fenced off area! Full of curiosity, I just had to know what was going on. A glistening brass fence surrounded the area by the stove. This shifted our potty space towards the back door, and my siblings began to complain. Sensing something important was happening, I kept silent and observed.

Mom guardian than began bringing in ‘the others’ two at a time. They were smaller than us, and smelled different, but they looked kind of like my siblings. Aunt Freya anxiously watched as our guardian placed them carefully on the other fluffy bed. When they cried out, she seemed almost frantic to get to them, but waited until there were six. Two of them were black and white, almost like Xena, and two of them were gray like me, Christmas and Elvis. One of them was red and white like Ace and Mitu, but one was a very light tannish-red color. They whined and yelped when they were alone, but quieted immediately when Aunt Freya curled up with them.

Mom guardian explained they were our cousins, as our father’s brother was their father. The gray girl she called Silver, and the boy she called Face because of his wide white face markings. One black and white pup she called Cat because his neck mark looked like a kitten, the other she called Flakes since his mark looked like a big fat snowflake. The dark red boy she called Brownie, and the other one she called Buck, for his buckskin color. They looked very different, almost more like toys than real puppies, like they were painted. That meant that we had more of us to play with, and I did a little happy dance by their gate and howled hello. Silver came to the gate, but instead of greeting me back, she ran straight for my squeaky! She grabbed it and ran back for the gate and I intercepted. How dare she!?

She was so much smaller that I bowled her over and she howled as if I wounded her. Mom guardian was mad and yelled at me! It hurt, and I went and hid under the counter. Did that mean I had to share my toys with them too? Outrageous!

So we decided to set up patrol around their perimeter to ensure it did not happen again. For a while we kept them out of our space and were able to make forays into their territory to take their toys because we were big enough to jump over the gate and they weren’t.

A few days later, Mom guardian put my siblings and I in the livingroom, and I guarded our food from ‘the others’ even though she put them in a different room. The house smelled of pine and bleach as she scrubbed and disinfected the floor, but when she was done, there was no more gate!

We had to mingle with the others! But as Silver approached me and pawed at me playfully, I thought perhaps this wasn’t such a bad thing after all. I used to be the smallest, but not any more!

Monday, July 26, 2010

Our Home

In the kitchen, Mom guardian put our wonderful fluffy warm bed in a place where our mother felt comfortable to nurse us. She placed nice blankets on one side and the papers and ‘potty pads’ on the other side. Moon loved to sleep in the white circle, and sometimes she was hard to see so white on white. What was great about where it was placed left a neat little cave along the backside and under the ledge of the counters where we could hide and be safe from… well, anything that may have swooped on us in the dark. The only problem was that I wasn’t the only one that thought it a great place to sleep. It got downright crowded at times. Mom guardian brought me this great toy. It was blue, and the texture tickled my tongue as I chewed on it. It looked sort of like a soft stick with a dog head on one end and nubs on the other that resembled legs and tail. If I bit it hard enough on the head or tail, it would squeal! It did not sound like my siblings, this sounded like prey! Oh was it fun! I chewed and chewed and each time it squealed I would try harder! After a long time though, I got sleepy and that rat Xena took my toy! Philistine! Xena would not give my toy back when I asked her for it. Mom guardian merely smiled when I told her that I was the Princess and that I should get all the toys. I don’t think she understood my protests. Their language is so different from ours. So I took matters into my own paws and launched an offensive to reclaim my lost property. It didn’t end well. Xena could have it, I wanted the pink ball squeaky anyway.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The world was bigger outside the kitchen, my guardian used to carry me to den and let me play there. Every once in a while she’d take me to the open place that was oh-so-cold. It was bigger than anything imaginable, with no roof and white stuff covered the ground. She called it ‘outside’, and my guardian would praise and pet me if I went ‘potty’ out there. It made her very happy, so I went potty outside as often as I could. After going potty outside, she would bring me back ‘inside’ and give me a treat. But sometimes I couldn’t wait to go outside and went on the papers she put on the floor. She also praised me for going on the papers, but didn’t pet me or give me a treat. If I missed the paper, she would look disappointed and didn’t say a thing. It made me feel terrible and I tried very hard to get on the papers when I couldn’t go outside.

Every morning our Mom guardian would make a bowl of food mixed with water, and call us over to eat. Once we ate she would take us outside two at a time. After all of us had been outside, she would give us a treat of a milk mixed with powder she called ‘puppy milk’ that was oh so good. Pushing my siblings aside, I would try to drink as much as I could. But they were all bigger than me, and a lot of time I would get pushed out of the bowl. Mom guardian would pick me up, kiss my forehead, and make me a private bowl outside the ‘enclosure’ of the kitchen. To show my appreciation, I would lick up every drop, and then cuddle into her lap with a big sigh of contentment. Most times I would fall asleep as she pet me and made me feel good all over.

At the edge of our enclosure big dogs would gather, and sometimes they scared me, other times I wanted to play with them. The hairy one with the gentle face I learned was my father. He would often come and touch noses with me, and sniff me over the gate.

Sometimes he would lick my face and it made me feel happy. I would run around, and call out to him to play. But he would look at me with sad eyes. He wanted to play, but he was afraid of hurting us. So I would jump and scrabble with my hind legs, trying to get over the barrier, and finally I did!Christmas was watching me, and imitated exactly what I did, and she escaped too! We ran around the big area like mad, sniffing out every corner! We were so happy, we played and played, and found neat things to chew on although we argue-played over who got to chew on what. Mom guardian found us though, and after a good laugh, she picked us up and put us back in the enclosure. She sat with us for a time, petting and playing with us before she gathered up some things and left. It was hours she was gone, but Dad guardian and James guardian came and spent time with us. It just wasn’t the same, but we were happy to be with them.

What seemed a lifetime later, and the window to outside was dark when she came home. We were all so happy! We couldn’t wait to see her! We howled and jumped at the gate, and Christmas and I whined until we were able to climb out then ran to greet her! She smiled and picked us up, hugging us as we licked her face. She sat with us and I sat in her lap defending it from my siblings that wanted to steal her attention. Moon grabbed my ear, and Elvis grabbed my tail, and we tumbled onto the floor. Mom guardian laughed in delight as I struggled to get them off from me. As soon as I was free, I ran and grabbed that stinker Christmas that crawled in to her lap in my absence. Rotten siblings! Raawrrrr!